


Anchor me

by charimiel



Series: Sterek Week June 23-29 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anchors, Day 2, M/M, Near Death Experience, Sterek Week, june 24th, post 3b kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charimiel/pseuds/charimiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t even supposed to be a risky operation, that’s what’s makes it so much fucking worse, it was just a simple bait and trap. They’ve faced far worse than rogue omegas, but maybe that’s made them complacent, caused them to forget the damage even just an omega can do.<br/>...</p>
<p>"He’s gonna be fine Derek.” Scott reassures</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor me

It wasn’t even supposed to be a risky operation, that’s what’s makes it so much fucking worse, it was just a simple bait and trap. They’ve faced far worse than rogue omegas, but maybe that’s made them complacent, caused them to forget the damage even just an omega can do.

“Derek?” Scott says quietly, holding his hands out in front of him and not making any sudden movements. Derek frowns, then realises he’s wolfed out without even realising it. It’s understandable; his anchor is lying inside the hospital room behind a door he’s not allowed through, recovering from major surgery.

He stops himself from pacing in front of the door and stands still, listening in and hearing Stiles’s heartbeat, breathing in time with it, 4 beats for each deep breath. His fangs and claws retract, to Scott’s obvious relief, but his eyes refuse to return to normal.

“They said he’ll be fine. He’s gonna be fine Derek.” Scott reassures, and Derek just sort of… collapses. Falls back onto the chair he’d stopped in front of, like all his strings have been cut, and just breathes, relief flooding every artery and vein in his body. He can still hear Stiles’s heartbeat in the background, but now that he doesn’t have to fear that every beat will be its last he can let himself pay attention to the other sounds. He can hear Stiles’s breathing, deep in the way he recognises from the times Stiles has fallen asleep on him, sprawled out on the sofa after research sessions, or movie marathons.

“He’s your anchor now.” Scott says, bluntly, not a question. It’s pretty obvious at this point.

Derek runs his hands over his face, lets his lip curl up slightly as he hears the familiar sound of Stiles snuffling in his sleep, and looks up at Scott.

“Yeah.” He replies. It doesn’t feel like enough, one word can’t convey everything he feels for Stiles; all tangled up like the threads on Stiles’s case board. Most of the threads would be red, he thinks, because even after the months he’s had to try to figure out how, and why, and when, he’s still no closer to any answers.

Scott gets it though, because Scott reminds him of a younger version of himself so fiercely sometimes it’s like looking back into the past. Allison was his first anchor, and he knows the way it consumes you from the inside. To have a single person as an anchor is so very dangerous he knows, because it fills you up, pushes any other supports to the very back of our mind, burns down any alternate anchors you might have previously relied on. It’s not altogether surprising that most wolves that go feral are wolves whose anchor has been killed.

“He doesn’t know.” Scott points out, once again not asking, just stating a fact. Scott knows Derek, knows that Derek would never have told Stiles.

“Of course not.” Derek says, still listening in to the hospital room. The doctors are talking quietly, and he can make out what they’re saying, discussions about potential painkillers.

Scott looks at him, no judgement in his eyes, just understanding. He sits down across from him, reminiscent of the way they’d sat opposite each other outside another of Stiles’s hospital rooms, just a few months ago.

“I’d ask ‘why Stiles’, but I think I already know.” Scott says, a small smile on his face.

Derek doesn’t answer, just listens to Stiles’s breathing, his heartbeat. Lets it keep him grounded, lets it tie him into his human form, red threads wrapped around his ribcage and around his heart, holding him together.

The door opens, and he looks over at the doctor who emerges.

“You can go in now.” He says, looking at Derek sympathetically. He knows he looks utterly pathetic, knows this doctor is assuming things that aren’t true about Stiles and him if the sympathy in his face is anything to go by, but he doesn’t care.

He practically runs into the room, and when he sees Stiles, lying in the bed, pale but so definitely alive, another knot of tension unravels in his shoulders. Seeing Stiles doesn’t tell him anything more than sitting outside and listening had, he already knew he was alive, but to have it confirmed by another sense is like another cord tying him down, keeping him anchored.

“Do you want me to stay?” Scott asks quietly, and Derek shrugs. There’s nothing special between him and Stiles, nothing that’s ever been explicitly stated at least, and Scott has as much claim if not more to be sat by Stiles’s bedside.

“Thank you.” Derek says, sitting down next to Stiles, and Scott raises an eyebrow questioningly. “For saving him.” He clarifies. “It wasn’t for me, I know, but still. Thank you.”

Scott smiles, but doesn’t say anything. There’s a rustling from the bed, and Derek’s eyes immediately flick back to where Stiles is stirring.

“What’s happening” Stiles mumbles, eyes blinking open, slightly unfocused but settling on Derek and flashing with recognition.

“The omega got you. You were hit and miss for a bit, but you’re gonna be fine.” Scott says, when Derek just stares and doesn’t speak.

“Oh.” Stiles says, before trying to move. His face screws up with pain, and Derek has a hand on his shoulder before he can stop himself, holding him still and taking some of the pain. Stiles stares at the hand on his shoulder, then at Derek, and blinks.

“Thanks” he mutters. “Wait, are you okay?” he says, looking right at Derek, and Derek frowns.

“Of course. The omega didn’t even get me, don’t you remember?” Derek says, confused.

“I meant like, with the whole control thingy. Like, I know we don’t talk about it, but you’d lose it if I died wouldn’t you. Shit, I promise, I’ll be more careful next time.”

Derek and Scott both stare.

“What?” Scott asks, breaking the heavy silence which Stiles doesn’t’ seem to have picked up on, his eyes slipping shut again as he falls back into his drugged sleep.

“Was I not meant to know? I’m your anchor, it’s kinda obvious” Stiles mutters, irritation coming through despite the dreamy drugged tone. “Imma sleep now, then we can talk later” he mumbles, as he drifts off again, and Derek blinks, then grins. Stiles reaches out with his arm, lying uninjured on top of the covers, and takes Derek’s other hand where it’s sitting on the bed. Derek laces their fingers together, and watches Stiles fall asleep with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of sterek week! Yay! Today is near death experience, I hope I did it some sort of justice....  
> [these fics/drabbles are also posted on my tumblr over here! Come say hi guys](http://charimiel.tumblr.com)  
> 


End file.
